


i was with you ('til the end of the line)

by charliebradburyismyspiritanimal



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Bucky Barnes Feels, Canon Related, Canon Universe, Fix-It of Sorts, I'm Sorry, M/M, No Spoilers, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Slash, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2019-04-29 03:46:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14464320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charliebradburyismyspiritanimal/pseuds/charliebradburyismyspiritanimal
Summary: His foot collided with something. Steve’s shield. The white star was marred with red. Blood.





	i was with you ('til the end of the line)

Bucky _felt_ Steve's cry before he heard it through the comms. Anguish flooded his senses and he spun around, his opponent forgotten, everything fiber of his being telling him to _check on Stevie_. The thing he was fighting took the opportunity to land multiple punches, but Bucky barely felt them, only focused on making sure Steve was fine. He had to be fine.

Bucky swung the butt of his gun into the face of the creature who kept trying to hurt him-who kept failing at trying to hurt him-and when it hit the ground, fired a shot into its skull.

His mind was foggy, he wasn’t thinking. He was just feeling. The sounds of the battle faded to the background, and he briefly registered Nat run by him, but she disappeared from his thoughts quickly.

Some logic returned to his brain and he tapped his comm unit.

“Hey punk, you okay?” he asked, struggling to keep a semblance of calm, his voice wavering. He waited, hoping, _knowing,_ that he would hear Steve’s voice in his ear. _I’m fine, jerk._ His hand started to shake on his gun when Steve didn’t respond, but he steadied it. Steve was alright. He _knew_.

“Steve? Steve, are you okay?” he asked, but it was more like a plea. No response. His voice grew more desperate. “Steve, please. Stevie, are you alright?”

Natasha’s voice came through the comms, and he tensed, ready to hear, _I see him, Bucky, he’s fine._ Instead, he heard, “We’ll find him, Bucky. I’m sure he’s fine. His comms probably fell out while he was fighting-” She grunted and the sickening sound of crunching bones was audible. “-these stupid sons of bitches.” He was shaking, he realized; his entire body full of fear and Nat’s words doing nothing to calm him.

“If anybody sees him, tell me _immediately_ ,” Bucky choked out, and without waiting for responses from the rest of the team, started making his way towards where he had last seen Steve.

His movements were mechanical, choppy, as he fired bullet after bullet into anything unfamiliar that moved. He's scanning for Steve all the while, eyes straining to get a glimpse of the shield, a glimpse of Steve.

After minutes of searching, his mind traveled to a darker place. All he could think about was Steve, his Steve, lying spread-eagle in a pool of his own blood, eyes glassy, his light gone out. Over and over again, he saw it.

Blinking the tears out of his eyes, the tears he hadn't realized were there, he kept moving. Steve was _fine_. Of course he was. Steve was always fine. Even as a scrawny kid back in Brooklyn, picking fights with guys three times his side, Steve always pulled through. _Always_.

Bucky felt himself smile lightly, in spite of it all. Despite no longer being scrawny, despite the fact that he was _Captain America, hero of all,_ Steve was still that kid from Brooklyn. Still the kid who hated bullies. He hadn't changed, but the world around him had. _Bucky_ had changed. But Steve, Steve made him feel like he wasn't the Winter Soldier, that Hydra had never gotten a hold of him, that _he_ was still that kid from Brooklyn.

“Stevie!” he yelled, and then suddenly he was sixteen years old again.

Bucky walked down the cobbled street, following the unmistakable sounds of a fight. He shouted, "Stevie!” again, turning the corner. The sight in front of them made him curse and he started to move towards the cause of his worry.

A small blonde teenager stood in the center of the alley, surrounded by three guys. He was already bruised, blood dripping from his lip.

"I could do this all day," Steve spat, his voice unusually deep for a boy his age. Bucky winced as the three guys pounced, then cursed as Steve crumpled underneath them.

“Goddammit, Stevie!” he muttered, then stepped forward. "Hey!" Bucky yelled, pulling one of the guys off and punching him square in the face.

The other guys scattered and Bucky hurried over to Steve. "You okay, Stevie?" Steve spat blood and Bucky swallowed a yell. “Stevie, you gotta tell me if you’re alright.”

A jumble of noises escaped Steve, that Bucky presumed were supposed to mean, “stop worrying about me, Buck.” So Bucky breathed a sigh of relief, but his anger didn't dissipate.

"God, punk, stop getting yourself hurt." He bent over and picked up the semi-conscious teen, wrapping his arm around Steve’s waist and lifting.

“I’m fine, Bucky, you don’t need to carry me,” Steve slurred, blood from his lip garbling his words. Bucky wanted to keep holding on, never wants to let go, but Steve pulled away, and the loss of the warmth against his side made Bucky shiver.

"Stevie, why the fuck would you go after three guys? Why the fuck do you even do this? You're gonna get yourself killed one day and I'm not gonna be there to save your ass!" Steve flinched at Bucky's tone, and the brunet bit his lip. "Steve..."

"No, Bucky, you won't be there to 'save my ass'. I don't need saving all the fucking time!" Steve's blue eyes flashed with passion and his cheeks were flushed. He'd never looked so beautiful to Bucky.

"Steve, you know I didn't mean it like that."

"Yes, you did,” Steve sighed, but the tension seeped from his small body until he's barely able to stand up again. So Bucky wrapped his arm around the smaller boy’s shoulders and led him out of the alley, Steve still bleeding, but as long as he’s safe, Bucky would always be fine.

And just like that everything good fades away. Bucky wasn't in a Brooklyn alleyway, the sounds of the city surrounding him, Steve by his side. He was on a battlefield, surrounded by corpses; the sounds of gunshots and screams filling his ears. And Steve isn’t by his side.

“Stevie, please,” Bucky murmured, “Stevie, please.” He whispered it over and over again, until it became a mixture of unintelligible sounds. He had to find him.

His whispers halted when his foot collided with something. Something familiar. The shield. Steve’s shield. The white star was marred with red. Blood.

“No,” he said desperately, spinning, searching. “ _Stevie!_ ” He picked up the shield, holding onto it like a lifeline. Steve was alright, Steve was alright, Steve was alright.

A strained voice broke through his haze of despair. “Buck?”

Bucky felt every fiber of his being relax when he heard it, then he saw Steve and he had never felt so terrified. Not the time Steve had almost coughed himself to death when he was 14 and they couldn’t pay for medicine. Not when he found out Steve had made it into the army and he couldn’t protect him anymore. Not when he fell from the train and he thought he lost Steve forever. Not when he woke up, surrounded by Hydra doctors, and really did lose the last part of Steve he still had. He’d only just got him back. He couldn’t lose him again.

“Stevie!” Bucky fell to his knees, trying desperately to staunch the flow of blood.

“Bucky, stop,” Steve wheezed, gripping Bucky’s hand weakly. “You can't save me.”

“No, punk, don't talk like that. You're gonna be okay, Stevie.” Bucky knew he was crying, he felt the tears streaming down his face.

“Bucky, just listen to me. I'm sorry that we didn't get more time. I'm sorry that I couldn't save you.” Steve winced in pain and Bucky squeezed his hand. “I'm sorry that I never told you how I felt, that I never told you that I loved you.”

“Stevie…”

“I'm sorry that we never got the chance-” Steve coughed hard and Bucky felt a splatter of blood hit his face. “-to have a life together. I'm sorry that I'm leaving you.”

“No, you're not leaving me. You're gonna stay right here, you hear me? You can't leave.” Bucky's voice cracked. “You can't leave, okay? I need you. I only-I only just got you back. Stevie, _please_. You can't leave me.”

Steve smiled softly. “I'm sorry, Bucky.”

Bucky pressed his lips to Steve’s; a plea, a promise, what could’ve— _what_ _should’ve_ —been.

“At least,” Steve whispered, “I was with you ‘til the end of the line.” His blue eyes grew glassy and his hand grew limp in Bucky’s.

“Stevie, no,” Bucky sobbed. “It's not the end of the line. You can't leave. You can't.”

He cradled Steve’s head in his hands, bringing their foreheads together. A hand touched his shoulder. He ignored it, pulling Steve closer to his body, and whispered, “Please come back to me. You weren’t supposed to die, not like this. I was supposed…supposed to protect you. Steve. Stevie, please. Please…”

**Author's Note:**

> okay, this is the first fic that i’ve finished, it’s also the first i’ve published, please don’t hurt me. feedback is much appreciated! i wrote this before i saw infinity war as well, but i was imagining it as them fighting thanos.


End file.
